


Never Good Enough

by macwell



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/F, High School, Prom, Shopping, body image issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 09:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12956595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macwell/pseuds/macwell
Summary: Sometimes it felt like Dee had enough dreams for the both of them.





	Never Good Enough

“Mom, I’m going shopping tonight.”  
  
Ingrid stood half in front of the TV to get her mom’s attention. Three empty cans of beer were lined up on the coffee table, and her mom clutched a fourth, still icy from the fridge, in her hand. Her eyes were distracted, not quite focused on anything.  
  
“Mom?” Ingrid said, again. She crossed her arms.  
  
Her mom blinked up at her. “Sorry. What is it, pumpkin?”  
  
The familiar nickname always melted away at Ingrid’s annoyance. “I’m going to the mall with Dee, okay? There are leftovers in the fridge,” Ingrid said, as she slipped on her sneakers.  
  
“Okay, be careful, baby,” her mom said. She still had that soft, unfocused look about her. Her eyes were on the TV, but her head was somewhere else.  
  
“Dee’s driving,” Ingrid said.  
  
“Tell her to be careful, then.”  
  
“Okay,” Ingrid said. “See you later.”  
  
Her mom didn’t answer. Dee honked her horn. A few steps out of her the front door, and into the winter air, Ingrid felt like she could breathe again.  
  
“Hey Dee,” she said, as she flung herself into the passenger seat of her friend’s silver sedan.  
  
“Hey.” Dee smiled at her. The car made an awful, grinding noise, as she shifted gears. As soon as Ingrid shut the passenger side door, she sped off.  
  
“Jesus,” Ingrid complained, clinging to the console. "Do you have to drive so fast?"  
  
“You love it,” Dee said.  
  
“I love the prospect of living to see thirty.”  
  
Dee took her foot off the gas and let the car roll on its momentum. “Is this better for you?”  
  
A car behind them honked.  
  
Ingrid fought a smile. “Dee, come on.”  
  
“I’m serious. Am I still going too fast? Because I can go slower.” Dee put her foot on the brake. “Would you consider this a safe speed?”  
  
_HOOOONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!!!!!!_  
  
“Dee, I think you’re seriously pissing that guy off,” Ingrid said.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Dee looked in the rear view mirror. Then she cranked down her window.  
  
“Dee, no, no, no-”  
  
“HEY ASSHOLE!” Dee yelled, turning around in her seat.  
  
“God.” Ingrid winced.  
  
“LAST TIME I CHECKED, IT’S A FREE COUNTRY!” Dee yelled.  
  
_HOOOONK!_  
  
“AND WE’RE NOT BREAKING ANY RULES! I’M WELL UNDER THE SPEED LIMIT. YOU CAN GO AROUND ME OR GO FUCK YOURSELF, YOU STUPID SHITST-”  
  
Ingrid grabbed Dee’s sleeve and pulled her back in the car. “He’s getting out! Go, go, go-”  
  
Dee slammed on the gas, and Ingrid was flung back against her seat, laughing like crazy, as the adrenaline thrumming through her body hit her like a ton of bricks. “You need to- take a couple of turns- to throw him off,” Ingrid managed, in between laughter. "In case he tries to follow us."  
  
“Don't worry about it,” Dee said, swinging the car around a corner. “You liked that, huh? Fast and furious.”  
  
“Never, ever, do that again,” Ingrid said.  
  
“Not with you in the car,” Dee said, with a wink.  
  
“Never,” Ingrid repeated.

*  
  
“Some of these dresses are just terrible,” Ingrid complained, as they entered the prom section of the department store. All around her, she saw poorly placed ruffles and excessive sequins. Nothing struck her as particularly inspiring - everything either looked too slinky or too matronly.  
  
“Hey, what do you think about this one?” Dee asked, holding up a short, iridescent, purple number.  
  
“Too much,” Ingrid cringed, and shook her head  
  
Dee tucked it under her arm anyway. “Whatever. See anything you like?”  
  
“I’m going to make my own dress, remember? I’m just here to get ideas.”  
  
“If you need to borrow some money, I can tell my mom mine cost more,” Dee said, with a shrug. She liked lying to her mom.  
  
“It’s not about money,” Ingrid said, frowning. (Although Dee was right - she didn't have a lot of money to spend on a dress she'd wear for one night.) “It’s about creating something beautiful, you know? Plus size retailers have such a limited selection, and their clothes are more expensive. If I make my own dress, I can make sure it’s just right.”  
  
Dee groaned. “That sounds like so much work.”  
  
Ingrid nudged her with an elbow. “Could be fun, though.”  
  
“For you, maybe. Nerd.”  
  
When they were almost finished browsing, and Dee had a ridiculous amount of dresses stacked up in her arms, Ingrid spotted a few girls from their school entering the store. “Juniors,” she said, softly, half to herself and half to Dee.  
  
“Second on the food chain,” Dee replied, with a sly grin.  
  
As seniors, they should be at the top. But Ingrid knew that they were far from it - they were perpetually the girl with the back brace and the fat girl. The Aluminum Monster and Fatty Magoo. She didn’t feel like interacting with anyone else from school. “Come on,” she said, holding out her hands to take some of Dee’s dresses. She made a beeline for the back of the store.  
  
“Okay, bossy,” Dee complained, with a sigh. She made her own pace - Ingrid rolled her eyes when Dee stopped to examine a tiara - but she still eventually followed Ingrid into a dressing room.  
  
Ingrid flopped into the chair in the corner of the room and looked at herself in the mirror, while Dee took off her back brace. “I think I have a zit coming in. Like, being fat isn’t enough,” Ingrid complained.  
  
“Keep exercising, and it'll go away,” Dee said.

Ingrid could strangle her. “Running makes me want to die,” she said, with a groan. “I don’t think it’s doing anything, anyway.” She slouched down in her stool, letting her stomach poke out.  
  
“It’s temporary,” Dee said, as she set her back brace on the floor.  
  
It was a nice comment, but Ingrid guessed that it was probably more for Dee’s benefit than her own. “I guess,” she said. “Whatever. Let’s see some dresses.”  
  
Dee was fast. Her clothes fell to the floor in a matter of seconds, and then she stood there, in her mismatched bra and underwear. Dee muttered to herself, paying no attention to Ingrid, as she tried to decide which dress to try on first. Ingrid had nowhere else to look, so she watched her best friend with a gaze that she hoped seemed casual. It was unfair, she thought, that Dee could look so delicate - all angles and smooth skin.  
  
“You’re like a model,” Ingrid said.  
  
She was surprised when Dee stopped moving, and glanced over at her. She didn’t mean to say that out loud.  
  
“Yeah?” Dee said, quietly.  
  
“Yeah,” Ingrid said. She felt her cheeks grow warm, but she didn't look down or away, because Dee’s eyes were still focused on hers. “Try the green one, I think,” she said, finally, pointing a long emerald gown with off the shoulder sleeves.  
  
Dee chatted as she put on the dress. She turned away from Ingrid, and looked at herself, half-dressed in the mirror. “You know, my mom always said that Dennis had a model’s face. With his cheekbones.”  
  
Ingrid shook her head in disbelief.  
  
“Right?” Dee said. “I mean, first of all, his head is too long and big for his body. At least my head is right for my body. And when I get this back brace off, my spine is going to be like, super straight.”  
  
Ingrid nodded, and Dee continued talking, as she zipped up her dress. “Yeah, I think I could be a model. After law school, maybe.”  
  
Sometimes it felt like Dee had enough dreams for the both of them.  
  
Dee couldn’t zip the dress up all the way, so Ingrid stood up. She carefully brushed Dee’s silky hair over her shoulder and out of the way, before zipping the dress up the rest of the way. Dee beamed at herself in the mirror, for a moment, her cursed back brace forgotten in the corner of the dressing room. Then Dee turned and asked Ingrid what she thought.  
  
They repeated the process with seven or eight more dresses. Dee ultimately choose a pink, poofy monstrosity.  
  
“It’s not my favorite,” Ingrid said, but Dee was gazing at herself in the mirror, and Ingrid couldn’t bring herself to burst her bubble.  
  
“Shh. Let me have my moment. This one. This is the dress,” Dee said.  
  
Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Can you put your regular clothes back on? I want to go to the fabric store.”  
  
“Wait, I want to try it on with the tiara.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not crazy about this, but I'm trying to challenge myself to post more of my writing. Let me know if you like it, and I'll try to post more. I have about 5,000 words written, some of which is from Dee's POV, but it needs a lot of editing.


End file.
